


so let your heart hold fast.

by heygreeneyes



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, Friends to Lovers, MWPP Era, Marauders' Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-02-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 04:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/694105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heygreeneyes/pseuds/heygreeneyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He falls in love with her when he is thirteen. She's only just come to terms with the fact that she might -feel- things for him. With the two of them guarding their hearts and trying not to risk their new-found friendship, is it really possible for either James or Lily to figure out that they belong together? [Complete]</p>
            </blockquote>





	so let your heart hold fast.

Red and orange lights twinkle in the Great Hall as students enter in pairs, arm-in-arm with their friends and dates. A fast-paced song, performed by the live band _The Whomping Willows_ , plays in the background, and in the blink of an eye, people begin to dot across the dance floor. It's the first event of the year (excluding the annual Sorting), and after countless nights spent plotting with the Head Girl, James Potter cannot help but admire the setting. The Halloween feast at Hogwarts is a tradition, but this feast is special, _different_. For one thing, it's an inter-House ball, something Hogwarts hasn't organized in years. And for another… He and _Lily Evans_ are the ones who made it happen.

"Wow, you've certainly outdone yourself, Prongs," Remus compliments, taking a look around.

"I don't know, Prongs. It looks kind of… tame," Sirius counters, mock-appalled. "I mean, where is the firewhiskey? The exploding pumpkin pasties? Drinks with actual bloodsucking insects? All of that power, and… don't tell me you did _nothing_ with it?"

James rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "Because Lily would _really_ let me get away with doing any of those things." He looks over the immaculately decorated room again. "Besides, it's a _dance_. You don't _need_ first-year pranks to be entertained."

" _Lily_?" Peter arches a brow.

Sirius' eyes widen before his best mate can even understand the question. "Bloody hell, Prongs, since when did you start calling _Evans_ by her first name?"

A blush colors James' cheeks. To be honest, he didn't even realize he had just addressed the Head Girl familiarly. In his mind, she's always been Lily—intelligent, beautiful, driven, and so completely out of reach. The only girl who can simultaneously make his mind go blank and speed up his heartbeat (to the point where he'd begin to fear it would soon lurch straight out of his chest). When his mouth started to voice the words within him, James isn't sure. He could have stopped using her surname sometime back in September… Maybe even in the first week…

"Prongs?"

He brushes a hand through his hair. "Sorry. Shouldn't we…?" James gestures to the seats lined up on all sides of the room. Sirius shakes his head at the blatant change of subject, but chooses not to press it— _this_ time. The three of them follow James across the room, so many silent questions on the tips of their tongues. Before they can sit down, however, the object of discussion herself, Lily Evans, races into the room, arms wrapping around James immediately.

"It's brilliant, James! Brilliant!"

The Head boy blushes, his lips curling into a soft smile.

' _James_?' Peter mouths, as James shrugs off Lily's praises, telling her he was happy to do it.

Remus eyes the pair carefully, wondering what on earth the redhead could be talking about. The Great Hall looks spectacular, of course, but something about the way she's gripping him makes him think she's referencing something else. He opens his mouth to whisper the question out loud, but Sirius Black stops him.

Between Quidditch practice, patrols, Prefect meetings, and N.E.W.T. classes, this is the first time they've really _seen_ their best mate in a while, and something doesn't add up. He's _different_ —Lily is different with him, as if something massive, in only two months, has changed. James' words to her are measured; Lily's voice seems almost—marginally, incredibly unnoticeable (unless you were searching for it)— _flirtatious_.

' _Are they—do you think they're actually…?'_ The words are nearly out of Sirius' mouth, but he stops them from pouring out, choosing to fully appraise the situation first. Lily's arms are still around James, her mouth whispering something into his ear, and James, cherry red cheeks glowing brighter than any light in the room, is smiling wider than any of them have seen in a long time. It feels taboo to break whatever spell they're under (even though a part of Sirius certainly wants to try), so he holds back the interrogation, signaling Peter and Remus to do the same.

It's a well-known fact that James Potter has had feelings for Lily Evans for years. The least they can do is give the bloke his chance.

* * *

When he is thirteen-years-old, James Potter falls in love for the first time, and the experience completely throws his world off its axis. He loses his balance, stumbles through the end of second year, and tries, more than anything, to shake the disturbing feelings off. At age thirteen, James Potter doesn't want to feel strongly for any person. He would rather play Quidditch, muck about with Sirius, Remus, and Peter, or work on their "Super-Secret Marauding Project," the Marauder's Map. He has full moons to conquer and loads of mischief to make. Falling in love, even falling in _like_ , really isn't in the plan.

But the more he sees Lily Evans, the more difficult it becomes for James to deny it. Oh, it's easy for him to _say_ the words that would reassure his mates that he's completely normal, but to actually _feel_ them, to really force himself to feel nothing, is excruciating. He can't help the way his palms sweat when she's around or how soothing her smile is (even though it's rarely directed at him). He likes watching her talk about how thrilling she finds Charms; the way she blushes when Slughorn raves about her Potions prowess makes him smile. This is too simple, too _easy_ to be love (or, as James calls it, 'ardent _like_ '). So he shrugs the feelings away, pushes himself to take no notice of the way his chest _palpitates_ when she's around, and finishes the year (almost) peacefully.

But come September first, the feelings ram into him, full force, and nothing can shake them away again.

However, James is still thirteen, still unable to properly deal with his emotions, that even when he stops fighting himself, even when he embraces the cursed affliction of his heart, he can't help but make a mess of things. He can't say the words he wants to say, so he grasps at other words instead, and everything comes out wrong.

Lily Evans can't possibly be the one—Evans doesn't _want_ to be the one—he yields his heart to. So he offers it spiritlessly, barely makes an attempt for hers, and falls into the pattern of being shot down.

For three and a half years, James Potter blindly meanders on this carousel, blundering up moments he can't see clearly, allowing her words to cut through him (without even realizing it) effortlessly.

It's an agonizing affair, this business of falling in love.

If he's being perfectly honest with himself, he isn't sure he _wants_ to feel that way again (assuming he ever stopped at all).

* * *

"So did you do it?"

James arches an eyebrow, baffled by the massive grin on his best mate's face. It's 2 A.M. and he's barely stepped a foot inside his dormitory, but _of course_ , somehow Sirius Black has managed to catch him, five hundred questions on the verge of being spoken.

"What are you doing here, Padfoot? How did you even know I wasn't here?"

Sirius laughs like it's the most ludicrous question James has ever asked. He rolls his eyes. "We might have lost the map, but that doesn't mean I don't still _know_ you, Prongs."

James blinks.

"Or… Moony might have heard from Marlene who heard from Emmeline who heard from Mary that you had 'stolen' our dear Miss Evans away for a 'clandestine rendezvous'." If it's possible, Sirius' grin broadens, and one of his eyes starts winking. Repeatedly.

James rolls his eyes, brushing off the statement entirely. He walks into the Head dormitory instead, despite the fact that he knows Sirius will not be deterred so easily. For a second, he almost ponders feigning ignorance. It's obvious what Sirius wants to know—it's the same question that's been on all of his friends' minds since the Halloween feast three weeks ago. _Have you told Lily Evans how you feel about her?_ James sighs, throwing himself on his bed, eyes to the ceiling. He wishes he had something _significant_ to report. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"Prongs—"

"I know you think I should tell her. Peter, Remus…"

"—The entire school, maybe?" Sirius offers, trying to lighten the mood.

A sad smile flashes on his face. "I just… I _can't_ , Sirius. I can't do that again."

"But—"

James sits up, protesting again, until eventually Sirius nods, leaving to join Remus and Peter in their own dormitory. Although he's tired, and he knows he scheduled a Quidditch practice that's only four hours away, James stares into space, unable to actually fall asleep. All of his mate's comments from the last few weeks reverberate inside his head.

_'What did you do to Evans? She hasn't stopped watching you since Potions yesterday.'_

_'Bloody hell, Prongs, Evans is_ smiling _at you!'_

_'I saw you two during Patrols yesterday. You looked… kind of cozy.'_

_'I can't believe you and Lily lost the map. Seriously, James? Seriously?'_

_'She_ likes _you, Prongs. Just take her out and snog the hell out of her already! What are you two even doing?'_

James sighs, rolling to his side and forcing his eyes shut. They simply want him to be happy—he _knows_ this. But his history with Lily Evans has been nothing but catastrophic, and these last few months have felt... different. _Better_. From Heads' meetings to patrolling to planning events like the infamous Halloween fest, he and Lily have developed a friendship of sorts. She smiles at him sometimes, laughs at his jokes (even the ones Sirius thinks are lame), and volunteers herself to go on random, ridiculous adventures with him (even if they're simply to the kitchens for a late night snack). Their relationship has been changing since the middle of last year, but this year, she actually feels like one of his mates. He values her presence; to some extent (he hopes), she cares about him too. After all this time, after everything they've managed to get passed, it seems absurd to go back. It's too much to risk. So he forces the thoughts away, stops playing with ideas of _but what if?_ , and attempts to rest for Quidditch.

It's a well-known fact that James Potter _feels_ for Lily Evans, but no one (probably even his best mates) quite comprehends the magnitude.

* * *

If Sirius Black were being perfectly honest, he'd confess that he isn't sure he _likes_ Lily Evans. He's not daft enough to think that everything his barking mad, fool of a best mate has pulled in the past is particularly _flattering_ or romantic in any capacity, but there have been times (and quite a handful of them) when the ginger Prefect (their current Head Girl) used malicious words unnecessarily, about things she couldn't possibly have known anything. For years, Evans has felt like a conundrum—someone who can be mischievous, goofy, kind, clever, possibly even fun (with other people), but also, someone who can constantly keep choosing _wrong_ (the wrong best mate, the wrong words, and—on occasion—the wrong defenses). He likes to think she isn't particularly spiteful—James has had a lot of her anger coming to him for years, and even he, the guy's best mate, didn't realize that those ridiculous antics were in response to genuine feelings. And he wants to admire her loyalty, even if that loyalty cost her years of denial and unneeded anguish. However, he can't just… get past it. Not like James, who has, on all accounts, been chummy with Evans since she accepted his Head Boy-ship. Or Peter and Remus, who understand that some things merely take time. James Potter is his best mate, his _brother,_ and no person should ever need to witness his brother utterly heartbroken.

Yet Sirius _has,_ on more occasions than he can count.

It isn't easy for him to encourage James' madness. Part of him fears that things may change _irreparably_ between them if he does. But even _he_ can see that the silence (the _not_ -knowing) for James is worse.

"Hey, do you mind if I sit here?"

Speak of the devil. Sirius manages a grin at the girl, gesturing to the immaculately decorated Great Hall. "Congrats, Evans. You've certainly outdone yourself this year."

Lily laughs. "Nah, this was all James." She doesn't seem to realize it, though Sirius certainly notices, but her lips begin to curl upward when she says his name. "All we really had to do was arrange for the food, possibly choose a band. It's not really much of a job. But James—" The smile broadens. "He wanted to do something more."

He snorts at the thought that _James_ , of all people, wanted a dance. It doesn't surprise him. For all his shenanigans over the last six years, it's a (rather poorly-kept, in his opinion) secret that James Potter is a hopeless romantic. Though seeing the way his parents are, and knowing about the boy's loyalty firsthand, it's not a wonder at all. James is the kind of boy who'd fall only once— _once_ —and never again.

Part of Sirius can't help but admire him for that.

"Of course he did."

His eyes unintentionally scan the room for his best mate, finding him in the midst of some heated discussion (probably for next week's Quidditch match against Slytherin) with Jones and McDonald. He turns his attention back to the redhead, who looks like there's something more she wants to say.

"Evans, I—"

"Black, I'm sorry," she blurts at the same time. "I know Heads duties and patrols have been taking up a lot of his time, and then last week he canceled your plans to help me out with something, and it's probably my fault he was late seeing you a few days ago…"

Sirius blinks, surprised. "You're apologizing for spending time with him?"

"Yes… No…" She looks so uncomfortable, it's kind of endearing. But he's the best friend. He's needed to have a conversation with Evans for years, even one as strange as this, that it's too soon for him to even consider putting her out of her misery. _'Merlin, if Moony and Wormtail knew what I was doing, they'd laugh themselves into the new year.'_ Subconsciously, he starts to snicker, imagining _that_ conversation: _'So… Are her intentions honorable, mate?'_

Though of course, he doesn't know. Yet.

"'S alright, Evans. He made it in the end, and we _did_ see too much of him this summer. One or two evenings with you aren't a problem." He means the shrugged comment to be an olive branch, a peace offering to let her know he doesn't mind her presence in James' life (even though he's not sure if this is true), but he only says it to observe her response.

This time, Lily directs her smile to him, releasing a breath she hadn't even noticed she was holding. "Thanks, Black."

Somewhere in the midst of butterbeer and jokes that make no sense at all, Sirius Black finds himself finally convinced that there is something _more_ to Lily Evans than he'd always thought.

And if this girl, who makes it a point to seek out the boy's best friend… this girl, whose eyes light up every time someone says the boy's name, actually—as he suspects— _fancies_ James, then he'd have to make his friend do something about it.

James Potter deserves to be happy, and lately Evans— _Lily_ , he amends mentally—has been making him happier than he's seen him in a long time.

* * *

"So how did it go?" Peter asks, as James enters the Great Hall after Quidditch the next morning.

"Hmmm?"

"He means with Lily," Remus elaborates. "Have you asked her yet?"

"Asked her what?"

" _What_?" Sirius laughs. "I'm beginning to think you've been spending too much time with Evans, Prongs. You were once a fantastic liar."

"What are you even—?"

"He hasn't said a word," Sirius replies to Remus and Peter, sighing.

"What?"

"Yeah, Prongs here has suddenly turned into a shy, little bird, who can't utter—"

" _Padfoot_ ," James warns.

"—a phrase he must have said a thousand—"

"Four hundred and fifty seven," Remus clarifies, completely serious.

James groans into his toast.

"—Four hundred and fifty seven times, and now he just won't—"

" _Sirius_."

They laugh, eventually letting him change the subject to something less complicated.

But communication among the four of them (or in this case, _three_ , since Prongs has had a lot on his mind, and somehow misses—thankfully—the way his mates' eyes keep _gleaming_ at each other) has always been superb. Thus, in the midst of the teasing and the avoidance, a plan is born.

For a misfit group of a disowned blood traitor, a clumsy Gryffindor, and an awkward werewolf, James Potter's happiness means the world. Even if it means they have to ask the girl out themselves, they'd do anything to ensure that he attains it.

* * *

The first time James Potter asks her out, it's a whisper, something quiet and shy and absolutely random that he can't possibly have meant the way it comes out. She's barely thirteen (long red hair everywhere, freckles all over her face, completely awkward), and this boy she has never truly spoken with (though everyone knows of James Potter) is paying a freakish amount of attention to her, attention she doesn't particularly know what do with. When she doesn't reply, he stammers a little bit, finds his nerve, and asks her out again, this time with so much bravado that she'd have to be a fool to possibly agree.

Later, when Alice admires her for her handling of the situation and Marlene retells the tale, the entire scene replays inside her head. To tell the truth, for a millisecond—before she realized this was _Potter_ , before that ever-present smirk spread across his face—she had almost considered it. But Potter has proved himself to be a bully time after time again, he doesn't seem to take much seriously, and he goes out of his way to irritate the hell out of her best friend constantly.

They've barely talked, but Lily Evans _knows_ James Potter, and he will never be the boy she fancies. _Ever_. She doesn't respect him enough for that. (Yet.)

* * *

In December of 1977, Lily Evans loses her mind—figuratively, though the effect is the same. With her sister's wedding approaching, her mum's request that she try to honor Petunia's wishes (even though these wishes mean having little to do with the wedding at all), the fact that she's Head Girl this year (with more responsibility than she's ever bargained for), their imminent N.E.W.T.s, and the uncertain future hanging over her head, too much has happened and too much has changed. All of it is driving her insane.

"Lily Evans, you slag! How long have you been dating James Potter?"

Marlene McKinnon poses the question at breakfast two weeks from holiday, so casually that Lily almost spits out her sip of pumpkin juice.

"… _What_?"

"James Potter? Our Quidditch Captain? The gorgeous Head Boy with the delectably disheveled mane and the pretty eyes?"

Emmeline laughs at the description. "Are you sure _you_ don't fancy him, Marl?"

She rolls her eyes. "No, seriously. Lil has been spending nearly all of her time with him—"

" _I have not_."

"Okay," Marlene concedes, "but you _do_ spend a large portion of your time with him. You study together, you choose to patrol together—"

"He was helping me with the Transfiguration assignment! It's his best subject! And Heads usually patrol together. It's tradition."

Marlene's smile widens, as if she's already won. "—And you know his best subject!"

"Hey!" Lily protests (though at this point, she knows her friend isn't exactly listening). "He's been Outstanding in that class since first year. Anyone can tell you that's his best subject!"

"I don't know, Lil," considers Emmeline. "He went out of his way to help you deal with your dad's illness, he's been exceptionally kind to you with this Petunia thing, and I'm pretty sure, since all three of them asked, when you were out with him last night, he was supposed to be with his mates."

It's easy to see where the two of them are going with this. It's the same question her friends have been hinting at since the Halloween feast, the same question she's wanted to answer since James Potter sat down beside her in the Gryffindor common room and became one of her favorite confidantes many nights ago.

The words shouldn't be so difficult to say, but they _are._

Lily and James have a history, the kind of history that probably dooms a relationship before it can even begin. After the things they've put each other through, the things he's done and the things she's said to him over the years, how can they possibly move forward?

This shouldn't feel difficult, this shouldn't feel like _this_ , but it does.

As 1977 draws to a close, Lily Evans loses her mind. And James Potter, a boy she undoubtedly fancies, is the cause.

* * *

"Sickle for your thoughts?"

His voice wakes her up from her reverie. She sighs, wondering how, of all people, _Potter_ has managed to find her in the castle before anyone else.

"I'm just really… I can't do this right now, Potter. It's been an awful day, and I fancy being alone right now."

It must be three in the morning, and they're on top of the Astronomy Tower. She's had another row with Sev, what she's hoping will be the final one, and the very last thing she needs to see is James Potter's smug face. So she looks to the stars, seconds away from crying, hoping he says what he wants—' _I told you so. How daft can you possibly be, Evans?'_ —and goes on his merry way.

Instead, he stands firmly beside her. "No one wants to be alone, Evans."

She knows it's stupid because she has friends, good friends who would do anything for her, but something about the way he says the words—like he knows what he's talking about, like he's suffered something remotely similar to what she's going through at that very moment ( _How on earth could Potter know what this feels like?)_ —causes her to break. The tears begin to trail down her cheeks faster than she can blink them away.

James' eyes widen, alarmed. Immediately, he reaches into his pocket and withdraws a neatly folded piece of cloth. "Evans, hey, hey, don't… cry." He extends a handkerchief to her, completely at a loss for how to handle this situation, but Lily is more surprised that he hasn't bolted yet. She can't imagine he has much experience with crying girls. "I'm sorry, I'll…"

"No, don't. This is stupid. I don't know why I'm—" She tries to brush it away, embarrassed that he's already seen her this way. The last thing she ever wanted to do is show weakness around him. But too much has happened for her to feign 'okay'. She takes the handkerchief, attempts to thank him, and then starts to cry all over again.

"Did you know," he says slowly, after a minute has gone by and the tears haven't subsided, "Sirius' entire family is in the sky?" When she raises her head to stare at him (he can almost hear the _'What the hell are you on, Potter?'_ ) he continues as if he hasn't said something completely out of the blue. "For some reason, the Black family loves the stars. Maybe it's meant to be flattering—that they think _that_ highly of themselves, but I like the history, and as cheesy as it is, the tradition is nice." He points to a clump of stars twinkling far in the distance. "Do you see those stars there?"

She half nods, unsure why she's indulging this ridiculous conversation.

"In fifth year, Sirius stayed with my family during the hols, and we spent the entire time rewriting the constellations. I'm rubbish at astronomy, but Padfoot's always been ace because his entire family tree is up there, and that stuff has been drilled into his head since he was old enough to read. Sirius is the Dog Star, the brightest star in the sky, but that one there—" He points to one a foot away from the others, as radiant as the Dog Star, but glowing. As if the universe took two stars and threw them together, so they'd shine twice as brightly. "—That one's the Lily."

Lily laughs, the first time she has that day, but James Potter continues without fail.

"No, Evans, I'm _serious_."

"There is no star called the Lily," she deadpans.

"But there _is_!" he argues. "It's that one, that extraordinary star right there. Because it's the strongest star I know, the star that can endure all of the chaotic tragedies occurring in the constellations around it, and still force itself to shine. That star is a fighter. That star is going to do brilliant things one day."

It's probably one of the cheesiest things anyone has ever said to her, but for some reason, his ridiculous story actually makes her feel better. He makes her want to believe that everything is going to be all right.

_That star is going to do brilliant things one day._

Who would have guessed that James Potter could ever make her smile?

* * *

"Lily Evans, you slag!"

She rolls her eyes at the familiar words, wondering why—for the _second_ time that day—Marlene McKinnon is trying to discuss this subject. She and James are mates—only _mates._ Even if they've been getting on really well lately, and she might fancy him (just a little), that doesn't mean he returns those feelings. He hasn't asked her out since the middle of sixth year. He hasn't made a move on her at all. By all accounts, James Potter has finally moved on. Lily will just… have to figure out how to do the same.

"How long have you been seeing Sirius Black?"

This time, she starts to choke, sans-pumpkin juice. "How long have I… _what_?"

"I saw him writing you a letter."

She stares. "A letter. Okay. But Marlene, this doesn't mean… Why do you think—?"

"He's in the common room with a piece of parchment addressed to you, using words like ' _always_ ' and ' _feelings_ ' and _'adore_ '. Which actually explains the James Potter Predicament. Potter's obviously befriended you, so his friend can work up the nerve to ask you out."

It's the most ludicrous thing she has ever heard. Before Halloween, she and Sirius had avoided each other, and every memory of him in the past has always been as Potter's right-hand man. Over the last few weeks, she's had breakfast a few times with James and his mates, but Sirius never looked like he cared for her more than he was letting on. And the idea that _Sirius Black_ , who exudes confidence, would need to work up the courage to ask her out is preposterous. Surely Marlene is mistaken.

Before Lily can voice this thought out loud, however, Caroline Johnson takes her seat between them in Arithmancy, clearly dazed. "I'm so confused." She holds out some rolled up parchment, green ink scribbled haphazardly on the sheet. Immediately, the words ' _always_ ' and ' _feelings_ ' and ' _adore_ ' stand out in the text, reassuring Lily that Marlene had gotten the scene wrong. Clearly, Sirius' letter was meant for Caroline all along, and she simply _imagined_ the name 'Lily' scrawled on the top of it. When she takes a look at it again, however, she notices the handwriting: endearingly crooked; the cursive loops wider than they need to be; the letters exceptionally small. It is handwriting she's recently become very familiar with—the same writing that makes up the Prefect patrol schedule every other week, the same writing she's seen all over his Transfiguration notes. It's so unmistakable, a defining characteristic of sorts, that she actually finds herself staring at the blasted note.

"I think James… possibly… maybe… _fancies_ me."

And sure enough, it's James Potter's signature on the bottom of the page.

It doesn't make sense, so much that Marlene even voices this thought, but Lily feels her heart sinking inside of her chest.

She's been feeling for a while that James has finally given up on her, but the confirmation still hurts.

Nevertheless…

"I'm sorry, Lil. I really thought he liked you," Caroline apologizes. "I'll turn him down as soon as I see him."

Lily shakes her head. "No, no, don't refuse on my account. We're really just mates," she promises.

Caroline looks at her, unconvinced. "Are you _sure_?"

"Yes!" Her voice sounds strangled, even to her own ears, but Lily continues as if everything is okay. "I _want_ you to date him."

"…You _what_?" Marlene interjects, no longer able to listen quietly.

She ignores her. "Give him a chance, Car. Say yes." The most natural-looking sham of a smile is plastered on her face, but Lily continues to encourage the girl, until eventually, Caroline agrees.

It's not a commonly known fact (the development is quite recent, really), but few people can make Lily Evans feel quite like James Potter does. If he fancies Caroline Johnson—if he fancies _anyone_ —he should pursue it. He should be happy. She _wants_ him to be happy.

(Even if it breaks her heart in the process.)

* * *

At the end of fifth year, it is obvious that Lily Evans _loathes_ James Potter. Not enough to seriously _hate_ him, but to the point where _dislike_ cannot even be used without the words ' _truly'_ and ' _intensely'_ preceding them. They've always done things in extremes—taking the time to say that one extra thing they don't need to say, pushing each other so hard that their arguments don't end (not _really_ ) but lead to several more. It's a complicated dance of falsely insincere _'Go out with me_?'s and an excessive case of 'Foot-in-Mouth Syndrome', but for many years, fifth year included, the tension between Potter and Evans has evolved… to such a point that civility truly seems impossible.

Which is why it is strange for James when he staggers into the Gryffindor common room in the middle of the night, weeks before their O.W.L.s, and Evans appears, not a single lecture escaping her lips. He knows he's quite a sight—openly bleeding gashes, various scratches, probably several limbs on the verge of breaking—but after the night he's had with the full moon and his best mate's Prank from Hell, a trip to the Hospital Wing seems like one thing too many. All he really wants is to sleep.

So he sighs, waits for the Gryffindor Prefect to tell him what an absolute idiot he is, and starts heading in the direction of his dormitory (at a snail's pace because the wounds are still fresh and it hurts too much to move). What he doesn't expect is the girl to stop him and actually _help_ him, using her knowledge of Healing charms (her best subject) to minimize the damage.

The questions he thinks she'll ask—the ones he really does not want to answer—never come.

Instead, she's patient and kind, a side of her he's never witnessed directly. When everything explodes the next morning and his friendships might be broken to the point of no repair, _Evans_ is the one going out of her way to help him fix things. It surprises him to see her attempt to speak with Remus, although the details of their fallout are still unclear to her. It surprises him to see her argue on behalf of Sirius, when—even with the secrecy—it's clear that Sirius is in the wrong. He doesn't know what she's trying to accomplish or why she's meddling, but it almost makes him smile. Who would have guessed Lily Evans, a girl who _truly_ and _intensely_ dislikes him, would care?

However, when she finally tries to talk to _him_ one evening, the things she says about 'the Marauders' and their friendship being strong enough to get past things actually resonate with him. She ends up being part of the reason why he makes an effort (eventually), why the four of them are able to stay in each other's lives years later. It's hard to say, but part of him nearly gives up in fifth year, until Lily Evans reminds him of everything that matters to him. Until Lily Evans reminds him how much he cares.

She surprises him countlessly, in new ways every time.

(It's probably the reason why he holds on for so long.)

* * *

On their final Hogsmeade before the winter holidays, the Head Girl all but throws Caroline Johnson into his arms. The action baffles him. He specifically recalls—because Sirius had proceeded to tease him with numerous variations of _"And you_ still _haven't asked the bird out yet? Why is it taking forever, Prongs? Why can't you two just snog and frolic into the sunset?"_ at the time—Lily asking him if he'd like to go with her ( _'Just as mates!'_ ). He's been looking forward to it, more than he'd care to admit, since the moment she had invited him. Yet things have been strange since he missed her at breakfast this morning, and all of sudden, Caroline is the only person Lily can talk about.

"Have you met Caroline, James? She's brill. You should go to Hogsmeade together!"

If he were Sirius, he'd ask her if she's been drinking.

If he were Sirius, he'd wonder if she's telling him this because _she_ happens to be in love with Caroline Johnson.

If he were Sirius, he'd realize she'd just thrown him on a Hogsmeade date before he could get in another word edgewise.

"Er… alright then. Hullo, Caroline."

A pretty blue-eyed brunette he's seen around, but never really spoken with, returns the greeting, and Lily uses this time to make her escape. James sighs, running his fingers through his hair, and forces himself to smile at his new Hogsmeade companion.

Lily Evans never ceases to surprise him. (But never quite in the way his heart wishes she would.)

* * *

During James Potter's first week as Head Boy, a calamity emerges in nearly every corner of Hogwarts. At first, Lily thinks it's a protest. A handful of Slytherin Prefects are unhappy (one of whom is Potter's mortal enemy and her ex-best mate), as are a bunch of daft girls (who don't want to see their resident 'bad boy' on the straight-and-narrow). As the week goes by, however, it becomes clear to the entire school that this is not merely a case of " _How in hell did that troublemaker get Head Boy? Is Dumbledore finally off his rocker?"_ It's a farewell, thrown together by his closest friends, a celebration of the marauders and every significant pranking achievement James Potter has ever had. As Sirius Black would say on several occasions in the coming weeks, James deserves to be Head Boy and he'd make a fantastic one at that. _"But this is the End of an Era!"_ There will be few chances to create as much havoc and amusement, few times for him to really muck about with his mates before the school year is over. They're seventeen, it's their final year, and the real world is nearly at their fingertips. An era has truly ended.

As their seventh year begins, Lily Evans discovers exactly how much has changed in the boy she once considered her constant. He's more intelligent than she's ever given him credit for, more hardworking than she's ever known. And yet, _this_ James Potter, who has aged more over the summer than Lily feels she has in their entire six years together, still seems somehow… the same. He fumbles with a snitch less, but his hair will never look anything but windswept. He tells awful jokes but values a good prank (even if the types of pranks he does now no longer involve harming people). When he laughs, head thrown back and dimples on his cheeks, he laughs wholeheartedly, like nothing else matters but this very moment. He's that boy who will defend his beliefs to the death, the boy to whom loyalty and bravery are more than just words.

The boy who still— _somehow—_ drives her mad.

Lily Evans can't escape the James Potter Paradox.

(But she is no longer sure she truly wants to.)

* * *

"Hullo there, Evans! Fancy seeing you here!"

Lily rolls her eyes as Sirius takes a seat beside her. She isn't sure (since he's extremely good at hiding it) but he already appears to be buzzed (firewhiskey?) despite the fact that they've only been in the village for twenty minutes, and he only just entered The Three Broomsticks.

Her relationship (sort-of-friendship?) with Sirius Black is a strange one. They don't particularly _say_ things to each other, but she knows he cares about James, and James means a lot to her. It's not much to go by, but surprisingly, for the two of them it's enough.

"Hey! I'm surprised you're not out with your mates. Or on a date. Or… Actually, I don't think I've even seen you in here. Not since…third year."

He grins, not even bothering to deny it. "Probably the end of third year," he agrees. "I prefer the Hog's Head."

"Oh. Right. " She eyes him curiously, as if she's waiting for him to say more. Instead, Sirius orders both of them butterbeers and continues to sit beside her like it is the place where he belongs.

_'Sirius Black_ likes _you, Lily.'_

She can feel heat spreading to her cheeks, everything Marlene had said earlier echoing in her ears. It doesn't make sense because she and Sirius have a cordial non-relationship (though from James' stories, she feels like he's someone she can become good friends with). No amount of reasoning (' _He and James are best mates. Maybe they write love letters in the exact same way, and use the exact same words because somewhere on the Hogwarts Express before first year, they basically conjoined into the same person? James' was meant for Caroline, and Sirius Black could still have a letter reserved for…me.'_ ) is going to change that.

But does it really matter if he does? Lily wonders. Even if he has feelings for her, and her relationship with James began out of wanting to make peace with the girl his best mate fancies, it still doesn't mean that Lily can let something happen between them. (Or that she'd even want something to happen between them.) Sirius is an okay bloke, handsome and hilarious and a little… intense, but his eyes aren't hazel with the tiniest flecks of green shining within them. His hair has never been in disarray in his entire life (and what he thinks is 'mussed' still looks like it belongs in a shampoo commercial). He doesn't live and breathe Quidditch. He hates the Dark Arts, but not in the way it's a _passion_ for him. He doesn't go out of his way to make her feel safe.

They might have nearly become the same person the moment they met, but Sirius Black _isn't_ James Potter, and nothing, not even a perfectly sweet love letter (if it does indeed exist) with words that sound like they could have come from James himself, is going to change that.

"Evans? Hullo? _Evans_?"

Lily blinks, suddenly realizing that she's still in The Three Broomsticks, sitting with Sirius. She takes a sip of butterbeer and faces him with a smile. "Sorry, Sirius. I kind of lost myself there for a second. N.E.W.T. classes have been keeping me up, and I still can't master last week's Transfiguration lesson."

He watches her carefully, already on his second cup of butterbeer. "Transfiguration," he repeats slowly. "You know… Prongs is _brilliant_ at Transfiguration."

"He is," she agrees. "He helped me out a few weeks back, but I can't keep depending on James forever."

"No," Sirius says thoughtfully. "You can't. So Lily Evans, what are you going to do about it?"

"Well, I figured I'd spend the hols going over everything, and maybe check out some books from the library—"

"No, you silly girl," he laughs, "what are you going to do about that delusional best mate of mine? And more importantly, _why_ are you not out with him today, as planned?"

The words take her by surprise so much that this time, Lily _does_ spit her drink, all over their table. Sirius only laughs harder, giving her time to collect herself.

It's then that he truly realizes exactly how _mad_ James Potter has made Lily Evans through the years. (To the point where she's basically— _almost_ —as mad for him as he is for her.)

Irony has never seemed so amusing.

* * *

"Are you really serious?"

"No, I'm _not_ Sirius. The last time I checked, I was still J—"

"The Sirius pun? Really, Potter? _Really_? No one has pulled that since the middle of first year. If he were here right now, he'd hex you."

James laughs. He tries to picture his best friend's reaction to this scene, but he can't do it. Sirius Black would think his mind had fully imploded if he told him he was sneaking into the kitchens with Lily Evans, not to nick food after-hours, but to _bake_ things. Actual, homemade, magic-free cookies. He's wearing a pink apron Lily happened to have lying around, and she's donning a chef's hat he transfigured out of a folded piece of paper for her, and the house-elves are on the side, taking in the scene like it's the most amusing thing they have ever witnessed. He's rubbish at baking—probably because he's never cooked anything in his life—and Lily tends to burn everything _but_ cookies. However, this is something he promised he'd help her with (though she only wanted to know if he could get her into the kitchens at this ungodly hour without anyone noticing), and he's going to keep his word.

"But seriously— _Siriusly_ —who in the world tries to spike _cookies_ , of all things? They're supposed to be _innocent_ , James! I'm sending these to my dad!"

"Firewhiskey sounds like it'll be _brilliant_ in sugar cookies. They'd be the best things he's ever tasted."

"Or," Lily says slowly, because the thought seems obvious, "the alcohol (mixed in with all the other volatile things they put in that drink) will cause the cookies to explode before they can even finish baking."

James mock-gasps. "Why Lily Evans, are you _siriusly_ doubting my ability to bake spiffing cookies you'll treasure always?"

She snorts. "Yes. Because you basically confessed you have no idea what to do in a kitchen, and I really don't think cookies with _that_ much firewhiskey in them will bake properl—"

A strange _pop!_ sounds from one of the ovens before she's even finished her sentence. James opens it warily, wondering if the contraption is going to blow up any second. Instead, he finds a mess of firewhiskey and slightly burned cookie dough, separated perfectly into a peculiar cloud formation, refusing to merge like oil and water. He looks at Lily, an apology and a halfhearted _"You were right, I suppose…"_ on the tip of his tongue, but she only giggles, bringing a spoon to the bizarre concoction and flinging some of the mushy, alcoholic dough straight onto James Potter's nose.

"Oh, now you've done it, Evans." He levitates a handful with his wand, not even bothering to find a utensil.

Lily Evans shrieks, still so very amused, going for her wand and using his own battle strategy against him.

They don't realize it (because they're so wrapped up in the process of warring and cookie-creating), but their audience soon shrinks from the company of various house-elves to a single person.

And that's how Remus Lupin discovers on one October morning what exactly there is between Lily and James.

(You'd have to be blind to say it was _nothing_.)

* * *

James sighs, wondering at which point in the middle of a spontaneous date the guy would have to stop, look the girl in the eye, and tell her that he's sorry he's rubbish at this, but he's in love with someone else. It's not proper dating protocol, but he doesn't want to lead her on. To be honest, he's not even sure he's convinced Caroline really _likes_ him. She's amiable enough, and they're having an okay time trying out various sweets in Honeydukes (he _did_ just buy this monster of a chocolate bar for Remus' Christmas gift that he can't wait to give him), but there are no _sparks_ between them. On either end. So he really wonders why they're here, picking out chocolates in Honeydukes, _together_.

"Wow, that's an interesting chocolate bar. I never pegged you for a 'ginormous chocolate' kind of guy," Caroline teases. "I always figured you'd go for the… _interesting_ chocolates. The Pepper Imps, the Fizzing Whizbees, anything that explodes."

"' _Anything that explodes_ ' is probably accurate," laughs James. "Actually, these are for Remus. You wouldn't think it from just looking at him, but he has the biggest sweet tooth I've ever seen. Chocolate is his _thing_ , and…" He stops for a second, noticing a nicely decorated gift bag of holiday-themed sugar quills, sugary snowflakes embedded into the tips of the confectionery. Without even thinking about it, his hand reaches for the gift set, adding it to his pile of things to purchase.

"…And you're also a fan of Sugar Quills?" Caroline asks, noticing the bag.

"Huh?"

"Sugar Quills? Do those explode too?"

James blinks at Caroline, confused, as if the conversation they were _just_ having has suddenly escaped his memory. Then, comprehension dawning on him, he shakes his head. "Oh. No, no. They're just Sugar Quills. But Lily loves them."

"Lily," she reiterates, watching him closely.

James' eyes widen, realizing what he's said. "Yeah. I thought I'd—Well, it's Christma—She might like—"

He's trying to say ten sentences all at once, and if he didn't look so ridiculously adorable stammering his way through half a confession and half an apology, she'd probably have hit him upside the head for being such a dense prat.

There's no question in her voice when she simply verbalizes what she— _before_ the strange letter had arrived—and the rest of Hogwarts has always known: James Potter is hopelessly in love with Lily Evans (and absolutely rubbish at dealing with it).

* * *

In the middle of sixth year, James tells himself that he is done pursuing Lily Evans. It's the kind of thing he says sporadically every few months, the kind of thing that would mean something if he could actually say the things to her he says inside his head (and gives it a fair chance). But in sixth year, specifically between the end of 1976 and 1977, the sentence becomes easier to say and even easier to mean. It's not a big deal, staying away from Evans, when the entire world as he knows it is upside down. People are dying daily, his father's been taking on extra missions for the Ministry that he won't tell him about, and his mum is gravely ill (and refusing to see a Healer). For a sixteen-year-old boy, responsibility sneaks up on him when he least expects it, and he finds himself realizing that there are some things more important than chasing after a girl who wants nothing to do with him.

Or at least, this is what he tells himself.

If James Potter were meant to get over Lily Evans, it would have happened in sixth year, when he stays away from her. When he leaves for home often (a fact that would amuse Remus endlessly under better circumstances) to check up on his mum. When he spends more time magicking a motorbike to _fly_ with Sirius than he does hanging around in the Gryffindor common room, waiting for that ginger girl with the scintillating green eyes to finally make an appearance.

But instead, when the year is over and the summer holidays arrive and a strange golden badge finds its way into his Hogwarts letter, he can't help but think of her first.

If James Potter were meant to get over Lily Evans, it would have happened in sixth year. But it doesn't ( _absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?_ ), and seeing her on the platform on September first, 1977 makes every feeling he's ever had about her return tenfold.

* * *

It startles him a bit when Caroline leaves him in front of The Three Broomsticks, and he finds his mischievous mates drinking butterbeers with the Head Girl. If James were completely in his right mind, he'd find the scene hilarious. Moony belongs there, of course, and Wormtail never gets himself into too much trouble, but no one quite has had as many detentions as Sirius Black. Seeing him cavorting with Lily Evans, of all people, is a little… strange.

But the scene fits, better than it ever did in his mind.

"Oi, Prongs, over here!"

Caught staring, he walks over, finding a seat between Lily and Sirius. "This isn't your usual scene, Pads."

"Nope. But Evans here has thrown me on the straight-and-narrow. It's innocuous butterbeers from here on out!" he declares, taking a swig.

"Really?" James says incredulously. He turns to Lily, eyebrow arched. "You're actually attempting to… _tame_ him?"

She snorts. "Because Sirius Black is tamable, right?"

"Hey!" protests Sirius. "I'm perfectly tamable. When I want to be." He leans over James, reaching for Lily's hand on top of the table. "Are you, Lily Evans,"—his voice grows deeper—"woman enough to tame me?"

She rolls her eyes, as James hits his friend on the head (on her behalf, he claims).

"Padfoot, the only person 'woman enough' to tame you is Minnie, and even then, she has to throw you on a leash to make you listen."

"Minnie?" Lily asks, surprised. "You have a girlfriend?"

Peter chokes on his drink first, at the same time Remus and James seem to be dying of laughter. Sirius somehow manages a straight face when he tells her, "Minerva McGonagall. _Minnie._ We've been seeing each other for years, though Prongs had her last year. Torrid affair. Managed to get me out of one too many detentions. She's the reason I haven't been expelled yet."

It takes her two seconds to realize he's completely insane (and obviously taking the piss out of her). Lily considers playing along, inventing a "professor affair" of her own, but the thought of being romantically involved, even in a boldfaced lie, with someone like Professor Dumbledore just seems… wrong, so she lets the opportunity slide. Instead, she reaches into her satchel and throws a piece of Honeydukes' finest in Sirius' face, amused when he catches the morsel in his mouth exactly the way she expects him to, like a dog who's received a treat. " _Who_ isn't woman enough to tame you, Black?" she challenges, and Sirius pouts, accepting defeat.

An hour later, after somehow getting into a heated discussion about Sirius Black's many… idiosyncrasies, Moony, Wormtail, and Padfoot, like the professional mischief-makers they claim to be, sneak out of The Three Broomsticks, and Lily and James (who haven't even noticed) are finally left alone. They've been speaking freely this entire time—since the beginning of the school year, actually—so it's strange when, the second they realize they've been abandoned, the conversation stalls.

There are so many things James wants to tell Lily—how pretty she looks when she puts her hair up in a Dutch braid, how the mint green jumper she's wearing really brings out her eyes—but he is rubbish at _saying_ any of these things, so he chooses to stay silent.

Lily, on the other hand, is wondering if this is Sirius' (transparent) attempt at setting them up. Some of the hushed words he shared with Remus and Peter before James had arrived seemed to indicate that he was up to _something_. And if he _is_ attempting his hand at matchmaking, then that would explain the (poorly-delivered) love letter from James that Marlene had seen him writing…

Assuming James wasn't the author at all, and Caroline was an innocent bystander who somehow got caught in this mess.

"So…" she says suddenly, breaking the silence. "How did your date with Caroline go?"

Prepared for the question earlier (and surprised when it hadn't come), James doesn't know how to respond to it now. Does he tell her how pointless the whole ordeal seemed because he doesn't feel anything for Caroline? Or does he lie and say everything went swimmingly because his new _mate_ Lily is the one who set them up and he doesn't want to hurt her feelings? He searches his mind for an appropriate answer, finally settling on, "It went fairly well, I think."

This catches her off guard. (She was hoping he would tell her she was mistaken and there is nothing between them.) "Oh."

"Yeah, we did some last minute Christmas shopping. She's…" The word drags on for nine seconds too long. ' _She's great_!' reverberates inside his head, but it isn't what he wants to say at all. "She's… okay."

Apparently, this isn't the proper thing to say either because Lily, who doesn't even know why she's angry, is gawking at him as if he's grown a second head. "She's _okay_? What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

Realizing he's walked himself into the very trap he wanted to avoid ( _Where is Sirius when you need him?_ ), James raises both arms in the air, surrendering. "She's great," he elaborates. "Really great. She's just not…"

_She's just not the One._

It's a simple sentence, one he's probably uttered in response to loads of girls his mates have set him up with throughout the years. But this sentence is something he's promised himself not to say. Because specifying that Caroline Johnson is not the One means admitting that there _is_ a One. James isn't ready to release _that_ can of worms yet.

_'Just tell her already, Prongs. Are you a Gryffindor or not?'_

"She's not…?" Lily prompts, eying him curiously.

The fairy lights glittering in the Hogsmeade inn shine on her hair, and James' breath suddenly catches in his throat. It's the first time he's allowing himself to really pay attention that day, and there is something so _lovely_ about Lily Evans that it's holding him under a spell. He loses control of his senses; his body moves closer; his hand nearly reaches for hers.

He can barely stop the words from leaving his lips. But he does.

' _She's not you.'_

"James?"

"Sorry." He plasters a smile on his face, his hand abruptly moving off the table and onto his lap, as far away from her as possible. He _wants_ to lie, tell her anything ('I don't seem to be myself today.' 'I don't really want a relationship right now.' 'With Head Boy duties and Quidditch and N.E.W.T.s, there's already too much to handle…'), but the truth slips out of him. "Caroline and I are just mates. She's… great, but, to tell you the truth, it was… We only hung out today because of you."

He says it so simply, so gruffly that she doesn't know what to say.

"…Oh."

The air suddenly seems constricting, awkward on James' end and utterly baffled on Lily's. Eventually, she chooses not to respond, even though everything inside of her is begging her to ask about the letter (that he may not have written) or about what he means when he says he "hung out" with a girl he has (apparently) no romantic feelings for… simply because _she_ , another girl who happens to be ( _only!_ ) his mate, asked him to.

"Do you want to… maybe… get some air?"

He nods, welcoming a change in scenery (and hopefully also a change in subject).

When the two actually step outside of The Three Broomsticks, however, James almost reaches for Lily's hand to drag her back inside. There is mistletoe everywhere—hanging from the lamp posts, attached to all of the neighboring shops, and even floating in mid-air. To the random bystander, it would appear to be a decorative Christmas surprise, something the shopkeepers and residents of the town put together to make this location, which looks like Christmas all year 'round, extra festive. To James Potter, however, this is the (unrelenting, pushy) work of his (evil mastermind of a) best mate, who simply cannot let him get away with _not_ making a move on the girl he's in love with. It's immature, diabolical, _extreme_ (there is literally no space for a person to go without stepping under a sprig of the blasted parasitic shrub), but it's _so_ Sirius that he has to mentally hit himself for not anticipating something like this earlier.

Lily, on the other hand, is (thankfully) completely oblivious. " _Wow_ , they've certainly outdone themselves this year. It really looks like a Winter Wonderland!" she exclaims, clearly awestruck. Her eyes light up, burning brighter than the streetlights, and the expression on her face is so stunning that James can't bring himself to utter a word.

_'What are you stalling for, Prongs? Snog her!'_

"…James?" Lily waves a hand in his face.

"Huh?" he says stupidly, as if waking from a dream. For a moment there, he almost… He shakes his head, snapping himself out of it. The last thing he needs is to follow Sirius' dreadful, absolutely _absurd_ advice. He and Lily have been friends— _actual_ friends—for months now without any problems. ( _'Oh, come on, Prongs. Have there_ really _been_ no _problems? Isn't everything you're going through_ now _a problem?_ ' his inner-Sirius cackles.) They can do this. _He_ can do this.

"Where do you want to head next?"

He glances at the street ahead, searching for any path or place free of mistletoe. The routes to the Shrieking Shack and Hogsmeade Station are completely blocked. From as far as he can see, every road to Honeydukes, Zonko's, the Hog's Head, and even Scrivenshaft's seem completely cluttered, occupied if not by mistletoe, then by snogging couples (who can't even be bothered to wait for an encounter with the bloody plant before having a go at it). In the distance, he locates some Evil Plant-less air around Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop ( _'Damn you, Sirius Black!'_ ) but there is no way of getting there without encountering some form of hanging or hovering mistletoe. (And to be frank, he'd rather avoid that frilly place forever.) James bites his lip, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

Lily, on the other hand, doesn't seem to be fazed. "Should we start heading back? Was there any other place you wanted to check out before we leave?"

He's so wrapped up in his thoughts that he answers instantly, honestly. "Not really."

"Okay. I don't either. So let's go!"

"Wait, _what_?"

She smiles, poking his shoulder impishly. "Race you back to Hogwarts?" Not even waiting for an answer, Lily takes off, laughing as James shouts at her about getting a head start and cheating.

As he trails after her, James calms himself down. If they're too busy racing through the sea of cursed greenery, then they can't actually encounter any of it, can they? It doesn't _have_ to be awkward. This will be fine.

…Or so he tells himself.

In retrospect, he'll realize that he _really_ should have paid more attention to his surroundings (and less attention to the inescapable hanging over their heads). Because _anyone_ could have seen the unending trail of snowballs slinging through the skies, directly in front of them. It couldn't have even been a plot of Sirius'—he had no way of knowing where they'd go next (hence the mistletoes sprouting in _every_ location imaginable, instead of just his usual Hogsmeade haunts). He just somehow—because he doesn't want to make a mess of things, because this is the first time he's really seen Lily _look_ at him like that, and it's doing _ineffable_ things to his insides—missed the crowd of third and fourth years snow-warring from The Three Broomsticks and the Shrieking Shack, all the way to directly behind Hogsmeade Station.

"Hey! Watch out!"

The warning comes too late, and James finds himself in the fray, globules of snow hitting him from every direction. Lily leaps into the midst to help him get out of the way, but she only ends up tumbling the two of them down a hill, clumps of snow all over their faces. By the time either of them remembers to use a wand and shield themselves from the way of fire, they're soaking wet, completely freezing, and laughing so hard their eyes are tearing. They're in a tangle of hands and hair and limbs, but neither of them can really lift themselves off of the ground, too exhilarated from their sudden brush with snowball-death to move.

"That was…" she starts, still trying to catch her breath.

"Brilliant," he finishes. "Freaking brilliant." And out of nowhere, he starts laughing all over again , so much that his eyes close.

When he opens them, he is stunned to find a pair of startling viridian eyes gazing at him intently, strands of her fringe tickling his cheek. All of a sudden, he realizes precisely how _close_ his face is to hers. Just a breath away… A slight shift of the head… A mere centimeter more…

If James Potter were meant to get over Lily Evans, he'd turn away this very moment before anything can be misconstrued. But he hesitates, lingers closer, at last allowing his lips to touch hers.

* * *

Four months into his seventh year, a seventeen-year-old boy—ultimately—throws in the towel. After years of singing telegrams, spontaneous (not-so-anonymous) gifts, a hundred "grand gestures" on the Quidditch pitch, and consistent shouts of " _Evans, go out with me?"_ in the corridors, it suddenly hits him that this is difficult. This is _excruciatingly_ difficult. He's tried to suppress his feelings, he's tried to be grateful that he has at least (finally) attained her friendship, but a part of him cannot easily concede.

So he confesses, involuntarily surrenders that part of himself, knowing that once the words are out there, he will never be able to take them back easily (again).

* * *

Lily swears she must be dreaming. She _has_ to be dreaming. For if this were reality, then James Potter—James _freaking_ Potter—would not be lying beside her (rather _intimately_ ) in the snow. If this were reality, his fingertips wouldn't be dancing across her cheek, ever so gently. If this were reality, his mouth wouldn't be _scarcely_ grazing hers.

' _What is… Did he just… Is he really… actually attempting to…?'_

So swiftly, before she can even make sense of anything, his lips press against hers again, so fervently she is able to feel nothing but him. She can feel his eyelashes fluttering against hers, his hands cradling her face delicately, his heartbeat drumming in time to hers. Her mind shuts down; everything starts to spin. There is no way this can _possibly_ be reality.

(But it is.)

James breaks apart first, abruptly standing a foot away from her. "Oh god. No. No, no, _no_." _Fucking hell,_ how is it possible that the last two minutes have actually happened? "Lily, I'm so sorry. I just can't… I can't believe I… Oh god, I didn't mean… I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I am _such_ an idiot. I don't know how I could let myself…" He begins muttering a thousand expletives, so completely appalled with himself that she can barely react.

"James, it's okay," she starts to say, but those words only make his apprehension worse.

"But it's _not_ okay!" he practically shouts. "It's not okay. I don't know what is wrong with me… You must have told me a hundred times—more than a hundred on Remus' count—and we're in a really good place now, but for some reason I _still_ can't leave it alone."

"James, what are you—?"

He never means to say it, but at this point, it doesn't seem to matter—everything is already _beyond_ ruined—that he blurts it out _entirely_ , simply, miserably.

"Lily, I'm in love with you. I am hopelessly, _irretrievably_ in love with you. I _know_ you don't feel the same way— _Merlin_ , do I know you don't feel the same way. And I know I need to stop fooling myself to think this can ever go _anywhere_. But I…" He laughs at himself sadly, as if he can't believe his own foolishness. Something inside of him is breaking, but he can't seem to stop himself from pushing forward. "I dunno. Maybe everyone's right and I really am _that_ much of a masochist."

In the corner of his eye, he catches a glance of Lily Evans' horrified face.

It's obvious the way this will end. James almost kicks himself for expecting something different.

"…And now I've gone and mucked up our friendship. I just… Ugh. Sorry, I'll go."

So he leaves, apparates to who-knows-where, and Lily is left gawking at the space James Potter had occupied mere seconds ago, wondering what on earth has just happened.

* * *

In December 1977, a seventeen-year-old girl (on the cusp of eighteen) falls in love. It takes her a few more months to fully recognize it, but by this point she _does_ know—because everything inside of her feels _different—_ that this is something special. This is something real.

But she's scared and he's wonderful and he actually feels the same way, and if this ends (badly), she knows she'll lose a part of herself. It's too much to risk.

And yet…

_'Are you a Gryffindor or not, Evans?'_

She can't deny the part of her that _wants_ to embrace this feeling.

James Potter has been chasing her for years. It's about time Lily Evans considers doing the same.

* * *

"Prongs?"

James sighs, not even bothering to respond to the voice (or the incessant knocking accompanying it) outside his door. He isn't angry with Sirius—in some sad, pathetic way, he understands why his friends had to get involved. But he still isn't ready to face anyone. He'd rather just stay inside his room and wait for himself to forget the entire day even existed. ( _Like_ that _will ever happen._ ) Waiting for Lily to go home for the holidays is his back-up plan.

"Prongs?"

"Bugger off, Sirius. I'm fine. Just tired, okay. Leave me alone."

If the charm locking his door hadn't been so strong (the charm Lily had shown him weeks ago), and Sirius didn't respect his wishes to some extent, he was sure Sirius would just knock the door down.

"But there's—"

"—I'm going to bed. Wake me in January." He closes his eyes, burrowing his head beneath his pillow.

When his door suddenly creaks open.

"Using my own spell against me, Potter? Seriously?"

He jumps up, alarmed to find Lily Evans sitting beside him. "What are you doing here, Lily?"

"What am I _doing_ here?" she repeats, irritated. "What the hell do you _think_ I'm doing here?"

"I don't know!" he shouts. "I thought we…"

"No, I'm done hearing what you have to say, James Potter. Because you _can't_ just say those things and run away. Not after you've been acting so… strange all day. Not after you write freaking _love_ _letters_ to Caroline Johnson—"

" _Love letters_? _What_ love letters?"

(' _So Sirius did write that blasted thing and deliver it wrong.'_ Lily almost wants to laugh at how many things have gone wrong today.)

"—and then you kiss me hours later. You can't..." She's breathing so hard, he can't tell if she's _that_ irritated or on the verge of tears. "You can't just _say_ those things and leave."

The sentence makes so little sense to him that James laughs then, so _tired_ with this day. So tired of reliving this moment that won't let him die in peace. "Why does it even _matter_?"

" _Why does it matter_?" She's screaming now, _actually_ screaming.

James backs away slowly, wondering if he was wrong and _this_ was actually the way their story was meant to end. Lily was going to kill him.

"Because I _love_ you, you dense idiot! I freaking love you."

She… _what_?

"You _what_?" he actually says, dazed. He's gone insane—he must have gone insane. Because there is absolutely _no_ way Lily Evans just said she—

"I love you," she repeats, softer this time. "I love you. I wanted to tell you weeks ago, but I was so convinced that you couldn't possibly still feel anything for me, and then the feelings wouldn't go away. It had to be a joke, the universe's sick idea of a prank. But then you were _everywhere_ , always eager to lend a hand or give me advice or your shoulder or _anything_. It was like the more I tried to stay away from you, the more determined you were to find me, to be there for me. I couldn't get away, but honestly, I had stopped trying. I wanted to be with you, but I was too afraid, and you seemed so happy now that you weren't chasing me that I thought we could just be friends… Even though that's not what I wanted at all."

"YES. _FINALLY_!" a voice ( _Sirius_!) bellows from outside of the room, but James doesn't hear it. His head is spinning, thoughts racing a mile a minute, and he's positive he's forgotten how to breathe.

Lily laughs at the _astounded_ expression on his face, thinking that they make quite a pair. And then, before he can gather his wits about him, she steadily reaches over, grabs James Potter by the lapels of his shirt, and finally kisses him.

* * *

In the winter of their final school year, a boy and a girl (guardedly, gradually) give their hearts away. When they look back on the moment in years to come, they realize they'd actually been yielding pieces of themselves to each other for nearly seven years. They'd only needed to take one final plunge.

**Author's Note:**

> _This fic was written for my Jily Secret Santa giftee, Lotte. It's also the most difficult thing I have ever written (I really didn't know what to do with the prompt)._
> 
> _I hope it's clear, but if you couldn't tell, (nearly) every other chapter is a flashback. I tried to make it obvious through the context, so I hope it's as clear as I think it is, and no one gets confused. I'm also iffy on the characterization. I haven't written Lily/James since "Subtle Perspectives" and I had to rewrite scenes over and over because they didn't sound like the Lily and James I love and I felt like a fic-writing impostor. I like to think, after all the revisions, that the characters in this fic go well with the marauders I love and know, but I don't know. If something sounds off and is fixable, I shall try my best, so please let me know._
> 
> _Did you think it was slow? Did it feel too slow? Did the end feel too fast? I have no idea what to make of the pacing, but I tried._
> 
> _I know it has a lot of going forward and going backward, which is basically the history of Lily and James' relationship before she finally says yes, so that's what I tried to do here. And there's a pattern to it, and some (attempted) parallelism, so it shouldn't be confusing (if I pulled it off). But again, the things in my head might not work in text, so let me know if this is the case and I shall try to make things clearer (if I can)._
> 
> _I wrote James' confession to Lily ten times. It never sounded right to me, but James Potter is no Augustus Waters ('The Fault in Our Stars' by John Green—read it!) or even a Barney Stinson (How I Met Your Mother) (after so many rejections, you can't really blame the guy), so it needed to be random and abrupt and awkward. Which I like to think I accomplished, but it still doesn't sound... right to me. However, with every rewrite, I couldn't achieve what I wanted (each time sounded different, but never much better—though not worse either) that I'm finally leaving it alone. Hopefully it isn't completely abysmal. (Lily's confession, on the other hand, came easily, but kind of got a little longer with every revision.)_
> 
> _I have no idea if adding copious amounts of firewhiskey, because it's a magical alcoholic drink, will really cause cookie dough to explode before it's finished baking. I don't particularly suggest you try it out though._
> 
> _The Whomping Willows is an actual Wizard Rock band. I just... am not very creative when it comes to inventing bands and I've always liked the name (I couldn't use my favorite wrock bands Ministry of Magic and The Remus Lupins because you'd get confused in a marauder fic and it would be... weird) and I thought the Whomping Willow had a lot to do with the marauders, so it would be perfect in an MWPP fic. So yeah, I don't own that band name either._
> 
> _Lastly, I deeply apologize to Sirius Black (and all of you) for throwing in the Sirius/serious joke. (At least Lily calls James out on it, right?) It was just there... and once it was written, I was like, James totally would. So... that's my excuse and I'm sticking with it. (I also hope it's not weird that James' inner voice sounds a lot like Sirius. I figured if you had Sirius Black for a best mate, his voice would end up being the voice inside your head eventually.)_
> 
> _The title comes from Fort Atlantic's song, 'Let Your Heart Hold Fast'. ("in the oceans deep / in the canyons steep, / walls of granite here I stand. / all my desperate calls / echo off the walls, / back and forth; then back again." and "so let your heart hold fast / for this soon shall pass, / like the high tide takes the sand" specifically resonated with me.) I heard it in the How I Met Your Mother mid-season finale and absolutely fell in love._
> 
> _Also, I do NOT own the line, "I am hopelessly, irretrievably in love with her". Barney Stinson says it in How I Met Your Mother and I kind of really liked it, and every time I tried to make it my own, I could not because my brain would just autocorrect it to Barney's line, which was perfect and everything I wanted to say in eight words. So don't sue me for that. But also, I am sorry. But I'm not really because... dammit, that's a James Potter line, okay? It just is._
> 
> _If you liked this or hated it or felt anything for it at all, please please please review!_


End file.
